


Phantom Dancers

by ShadesOfGrey



Category: Purple Hyacinth - Ephemerys & Sophism (Webcomic)
Genre: F/M, I'm Bad At Tagging, no editing we die like men, why are you still reading these, writing at 2am vibes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:34:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26168722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadesOfGrey/pseuds/ShadesOfGrey
Summary: they just dance, man, idk how to explain it to you
Relationships: Lauren Sinclair & Kieran White
Comments: 2
Kudos: 44





	Phantom Dancers

The midnight dark glistens. A romantic time, isn’t it?

A pale, grey moon hung over the world. Shining stars that accompanied as back-up dancers, all of them sparkling and glowing, but none as beautiful as the true gem — 

Cloaked in black, shrouded by the darkness, and as if just a shadow, a certain assassin stood atop all else. 

Where buildings met their end, flattened out and left to be, Kieran White found a spectral amusement in them. He held out his arms and spun around once; here he was, so free and able to do absolutely whatever his heart desired. Fly, even, if he dared to try.

However, tonight, while he was out for his own little freedom walk, — trotting along and racing across the world — he encountered a familiar being. Tall, though not as tall as him, a woman with crossed arms and a stern, irked look scowled and raised her chin. 

“What are you doing here, of all places?” Lauren Sinclair demanded rather than asked, narrowing her eyes into deep judgement. 

Kieran smiled in return, one hand behind his back. The other ruffled through his black hair, as if fidgeting with his thoughts. Quickly spinning up a tale, he proclaimed that “why, officer, I was only out for a night’s jog! Do tell why you’re up, as well. I’d be fascinated by your reasoning.” True, yet… not exactly.

“I thought you knew I could detect lies,” Lauren replied, her lips pulled into a tight, thin frown. Her gaze was strong and fierce, almost unbreakable. It held with Kieran’s, holding them both with an unsure, silent certainty. 

Turning his gaze away to face the darkened sky, Kieran flicked his hand in Lauren’s particular direction. He had taken only one step out, prepared to flee if need be, when the officer put a hand on his shoulder.

“The truth,” she hissed.

“Nah,” he answered.

Frustrated, Lauren traced down her hand to hold Kieran’s wrist. She kept a firm grip, although her hastily breath was frail and her lungs didn’t seem to work. Something felt off, from the way Kieran strides and stood, and the officer felt she had to escape and run away before that something happened. 

“Officer,” Kieran chimed, speaking with a warning intonation. “Please, let go of me.”

And so she did.

“Now,” Lauren said, taking on Kieran’s passive-aggressive tone, “please, do tell why you’re up here.”

“You first?” he inquired, running his hand through his messy hair. If Kieran had known that he’d see someone else tonight, or even Sinclair, then he would’ve bothered to comb his hair. Maybe put on a nicer shirt. But, alas, his simplistic outfit would’ve done, his jacket the only thing muffling the cold. 

“I’m here because of your ruckus,” she responded with a snap, walking up to face Kieran and to force his focus. He simply looked away, gazing dreamily elsewhere. “Your footsteps aren’t exactly the catlike lightness you think they are. Crossed my house, so I decided to meet you.”

Kieran yawned, hand fluttering over his mouth. “Lauren, Lauren, Lauren… I’m here because I needed a break from my busy, busy life. Listen this, do that, do this. A chance to take a breather, you may say. Haven’t you seen enough movies to know what I’m talking about?”

Lauren hesitated, unsure how to respond. She raised her tongue and opened her mouth, hoping words would magically come to her. None did, and left only an ever-stronger gut feeling that threatened to suffocate her mind. He wasn’t lying, no, she’d know; so, why did she still feel something was off?

Then, “movies, Lauren. Pretty films on a television. Plays put on by actors. The thing that occasionally happens when you go to the cinema.”

“I know what a movie is, Kieran,” Lauren snarled, the itching urge to slap him across the face growing slightly bigger. 

“Would you like to re-enact one, then?”

“Kieran, I don’t know how high you are, but — “

Without waiting for her to finish speaking, Kieran had already placed a hand over her shoulder. She brushed it off, unsurprisingly, but only gaped and was taken fairly off-guard.

“A dance, Lauren Sinclair. I’m asking you for a dance,” he explained, lowering his voice to a murmur. “Would you want one with me?”

Lauren stammered something, quickly trying to form a coherent thought herself. Her heart was pounding, but maybe out of fear rather than excitement. A dance? With an assassin like him, so late at dark, and… a place like this, too. 

“It’s quite late, so I do understand if you’d rather go back to sleep and — “

“Yes.”

Kieran paused, skeptical he’d heard right. She spoke so heavily, so doubtful herself, and so he asked her to repeat. The answer remained the same; “yes, Kieran, I’m willing to entertain you with a dance.”

“Again, I don’t mean to force you into anything — “

“I already said yes, dummy.”

Lauren grasped Kieran’s hand, her right on his left. While a smile tugged at her face, she tugged at his grip. “Like one of your movies.”

Surprised he’d even gotten this far, Kieran wasn’t sure where to go. Hell, he was just about ready to head back home and come to terms with the thought of failure. “Then, a dance it is.”

Still, Kieran picked up his feet and moved. He was swift, agile, not at all like Lauren’s slowness and stumbling about. Her hands felt like clay, and as she tripped over her foot, Kieran could’ve sworn she was made from clay.

“Are you a Greek statue?” he remarked, spinning on the balls of his heel and pulling Lauren all.

“What?” Aghast, Lauren managed better than in the silence. She loosened herself. She let go and mimicked what her leader had done, quick enough to find those same hands still holding her. The something off was clearer now than ever, and in her next heartbeat, Lauren realized what it was. His touch. His hold, the way he grazed her and barely even existed other than as a ghostly figure. “No? Both of my arms are intact, in case you’re blind.”

Kieran pulled her close, breathing slowly on her shoulder. “Are you sure? You stumble as if you’re a tree being yanked out of the ground.”

Lauren held herself, wrapping her arms around her stomach. It was oddly cold out here, and she was more than envious of Kieran’s jacket. “Pfft, no,” she scoffed. “Hey, it’s pretty chilly tonight.”

“And?”

“You said it’s like that movie, right?”

Kieran stepped back, holding one of Lauren’s arms to spin her around. “If you’re cold, you should move around more.”

Lauren hesitated, then figured she’d have to take reigns. Especially if he’d betray her like this. “Alright. I’ll take lead.”

If Kieran wanted to protest, it was already too late. Lauren broke free and began to run, right to the edge of a building. Concerned, Kieran gave chase, trying to stop her — instead, she placed one, heavy foot down, and propelled herself into a leap. Soaring across the sky, Lauren landed safely on the other side of a gap, standing up and facing her partner.

“Well,” Kieran commented, smiling. “You know what you’re doing, aren’t you, little miss ballerina?”

Lauren grinned in return, stepping back and giving space as he followed. Then, again, she took off; one foot down at a time. However, a new obstacle revealed itself: a giant, cemented block where two fans were placed. 

“I sure do, baby mister pufferfish,” Lauren retorted, huffing. She tucked her arms together and made another leap, jumping onto that big fan block, and practically bounced off of it. With no recoil, or a need to pause for rest, she was able to jump again — sticking her legs together, Lauren held out her arms and spun around. The entire city blurred around her, it’s bright lights and buildings becoming mere fireflies. The stars above even shimmered and tossed down glitter.

Her landing wasn’t quite as good as her jumps. Lauren nearly tripped and fell, and maybe might’ve broken her face, had Kieran not been faster; he was there before she, and able to catch her with grace. 

“Calm down,” Kieran murmured, wrapping his arms around her stomach. “You’ll kill yourself.”

“Let me go, I can do better!”

“Promise to watch yourself more?” At this point, he took off his jacket and offered it to Lauren. Despite her earlier complaint, it was clear she was no longer cold, and simply tied it around her waist.

Lauren muttered some rushed “yes, yes, I will,” and broke free again. Kieran feared her refusal to stay in safety may end up spraining her ankle, or worse, and could only watch in a suspenseful agony as she laughed.

One foot kicked up, spinning Lauren into a jump, a twirl. Her arms gestured out, balancing her, leading the way.

She slowed her pace and seemed to mark out every step, placing one apprehensive foot down, then following it with another. Outstretching her arms, unfurling her fingers, Lauren took another deep breath, and put on a show of her own —

Bringing both arms into an arc above her head, she held out a leg and managed to twirl on her toes. Two, three, four spins; the leg lowered and became a new stepping point. Lightly, as if dancing on top of thin ice, Lauren leaped across the ground. Her feet landed on the building’s edge, refusing to stop; across the gap, her arms remained high over her head, reaching out towards the moon. 

From this angle, where Kieran watched with awe, he kept close enough to be a savior if it was needed (though it seemed unlikely) but far enough that he wouldn’t be a distraction.

Lauren moved with elegance, grace. One hand was always up, reaching towards the sky. One foot always up. Though she wasn’t a ballerina, and certainly not in proper wear, Kieran could’ve been easily tricked. His jacket, slung around her waist, was practically a tutu. Her silhouette in the distance hiding the fact that she had no proper wear.

Mesmerized, Kieran wasn’t aware what happened when Lauren ram into him.

“There’s something watching,” she whispered, her eyes frantic with fear. Her voice, already breathless from so much moving, rasped with worry. “Something knows we’re here.” 

Kieran hadn’t believed it at first. He traced her arm, ran his fingers along her sleeve, and found her hand. Holding it tight, he smiled and reassured, “we’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

Without skipping a beat, he replied, “absolutely.” Then, he pulled her into a softer, calmer dance.

Admittedly, it was only to keep Lauren’s mind off things. He led the way, stepping back, to the side. Guided her feet, turned her body, and kept her balance. Lauren’s eyes raised to stare into his own, that fear from before melting away with every passing step. Every click that came from their footsteps. Every inch the moon moved, slowly and slowly setting down.

All the while, Kieran looked over her shoulder. Past her flowing hair. She was right, something strange in the shadows was spectating, and he intended to find out what.

“It’s cold,” Lauren murmured, shivering as another, much harsher breeze came by. Kieran held her closer. Her exhales left a stream of white cloud, and with every exhale, her body trembled.

Having steadied himself, put at a sense of inner-peace, he could now feel her heartbeat. It was quick, fast-paced, starkly contrasting her movements. Those were slow, calculating, adjusted to the temperature.

“You were beautiful,” Kieran replied, holding her tighter. Despite the cold, she was still warm. Warmer than he’d ever been, and strangely enough, the thought of that made him smile. “You still are.”

He held her back, hand against her hair. The other, her hand. Keeping Lauren’s head down, Kieran held her closer to his chest, noticing that little blur of a shadow. An unusual light.

“Lauren,” Kieran said, his voice soft and gentle. He led another step, to the right, and watched the stalker switch its position with. He drifted to the left, changing his path, and again, that shadow flickered.

“Yes? Is something wrong?”

“No, not at all.”

“Kieran, I-I can’t waltz.”

As if on cue, Lauren stumbled. No worries, Kieran caught her, and swept her right back up. One leg over the other.

“Just follow my steps, alright?”

“Since were you a dancer?”

Kieran readjusted his hands, both holding each of Lauren’s, and had her whirl around. Her foot stretched out, able to trace along circles. She swayed with a rhythm that matched her heartbeat, drifting with a lost mind.

“Since you became a ballerina,” he chided.

Lauren lightly laughed. Every slide, she mirrored. In the steps that were left behind, she followed. It wasn’t very perfect for long, though, as her movements decayed even more than before; her feet scraped against the ground, her heels barely lifting. Lauren lastly murmured something, her words slurred and garbled.

She rested her head and breathed against Kieran, her eyes fluttering and too heavy to keep awake. Soon enough, she’d dozed off. 

“What a tiresome night,” Kieran whispered, hand twirling her hair. A little, thin strand wrapped around his pinky, followed by an accidental movement — pluck. There came a free line of brown. “You must’ve already been so tired to be so worn out.” 

Perhaps Lauren would think this was all a dream, although Kieran knew was very real. Maybe it would be a secret he’d keep.

Though the stalker’s presence didn’t leave, not even in the slightest. It hung around like a bastard, whispering words barely too inaudible to interpret, yet audible enough to be heard. Trying his best to ignore it, Kieran picked up Lauren, carrying her in his arms. Despite being in her early twenties, like this, the officer looked nothing more than an exhausted child. Playing around too much in the sun and burning through all their stamina in one hour. 

He set Lauren back in her bed, back in her apartment. It was quieter here, oddly quiet, which may have explained why she could hear his earlier ruckus. 

Well, no need to stay around. Kieran kissed her on the forehead, smiling at the sleeping child. “Je t’aime, Sinclair.”

Then, he was gone.


End file.
